THE LAST FRONTIER 



them. At any moment they were likely to make 

 another rush; and if they did so in the direction 

 they were facing, they would most certainly run 

 over us and trample us down. 



Remembering the dusk I thought it likely that 

 the unexpected vivid flash of the gun might turn 

 them off before they got started. Therefore I raised 

 the big double Holland, aimed below the line of 

 heads, and was just about to pull trigger when my 

 eye caught the silhouette of a pair of horns whose 

 tips spread out instead of turning in. This was a 

 bull, and I immediately shifted the gun in his direc- 

 tion. At the heavy double report, the herd broke 

 wildly to right and left and thundered away. I con- 

 fess I was quite relieved. 



A low moaning bellow told us that our bull was 

 down. The last few days' experience at being out 

 late had taught us wisdom so Memba Sasa had 

 brought a lantern. By the light of this, we dis- 

 covered our bull down, and all but dead. To make 

 sure, I put a Winchester bullet into his backbone. 



We felt ourselves legitimately open to congratu- 

 lations, for we had killed this bull from a practically 

 nocturnal herd, in the face of considerable danger 

 and more than considerable difficulty. Therefore 

 we shook hands and made appropriate remarks to 

 each other, lacking anybody to make them for us. 



362 



